


Lather, Rinse, Repeat

by honestys_easy



Series: Lather, Rinse, Repeat [1]
Category: Real Person Fiction, Tulsa Gangstas
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Bathtubs, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-11-12
Updated: 2010-12-03
Packaged: 2017-12-05 02:38:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/717897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honestys_easy/pseuds/honestys_easy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not that Neal doesn't ever shampoo his hair. It's just that he rarely does it <i>himself</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [loves_anodyne (machka)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/machka/gifts).



> Just a quick ficlet I wrote after Neal tweeted that [he shampooed his hair](http://twitter.com/nealfingtiemann/status/3225752128462848) for the first time in four months, and someone (*coughcough loves_anodyne cough*) suggested it's clearly because Andy washes it for him. And then this came out. XD

“Ow. Ow. Fuckin’ OW!”

Neal snarled over his shoulder; it probably would have been more menacing were he not sitting naked in a bathtub, up to his armpits in frothy bubbles, with another man’s hands gripping onto his scalp.

As expected, Andy was nonplussed. “Well, maybe you should try to run a comb through it more than once a month.” Neal snarled and splashed in protest; he _does_ comb his hair, thank you, but Christ, he’s not a fucking diva over it. One of Andy’s fingers snagged on another knot, and garnered another yelp from below. “I’m expecting to find Jimmy Hoffa in this hair.”

“Oh, a thirty year-old reference. That’s rich. If Dave was in here you know you’d get a fuckin’ lecture on pop culture.”

“If Dave was in here,” Andy leaned in closer from the edge of the tub, his breath dancing against the shell of Neal’s ear. “I’d have to kick our dear friend out on his peeping ass.”

Finally ekeing out a smile, Neal snorted at the mental image. But his sharp intake of breath brought a new sensation to his attention: he sniffed the air, realizing something was different. “What’s that smell?” he asked.

Andy was silent above him for a moment, massaging the shampoo into Neal’s scalp, lips a tight, thin line. Neal pressed the question again, and Andy’s voice almost sounded guilty at his response. “...Lavender...” he said warily. He could feel the tension rise in his boyfriend through his fingertips.

“What the fuck brand is this, Andy!?”

“It’s L’Oreal,” Andy replied. “Not that you’d know what that means, anyway. And if you tell me it’s ‘Cause I’m worth it,’ you’re getting shampoo bubbles in every. Orifice.”

Neal breathed in again, more deeply this time, smelling both the scent of lavender and the whiff of a challenge in the air. “Well, I’m already in the tub...” he motioned his hands down to emphasize, perky soap bubbles surrounding his frame. “Don’t think I’m the one with an issue ‘bout getting bubbly.”

His eyes drifted upward, to the figure of his fully-clothed boyfriend sitting on the edge of the tub. Andy’s eyes widened. “Don’t you--”

“I’m all clean,” Neal said, his voice soft, the words slow and drawn out from his lips, like a predator quietly stalking its prey. “You...are not.”

He stole a deep look at Andy, eyes roving up and down his body. The easy confidence in Andy’s voice was wavering as he detangled his fingers from Neal’s hair. “I swear, I will--”

“I don’t think you’re in any position to threaten me, _Mr. Lavender_.”

In the next moment a splash of water kicked up from the bathtub, two colorful, soapy arms emerging from the water and wrapping around Andy’s waist. Before he could even defend himself Andy felt his weight shifting off the edge of the tub, Neal using momentum to drag him down. His shoulders hit the surface of the water first, then his head diving under, soaking through his hair and beard. Within seconds his shirt was drenched, his jeans a sopping mess, and his boyfriend way too fucking pleased with himself.

When Andy’s head emerged from the water, he looked up to find a grinning Neal Tiemann above him. “Who’s all soapy now?”

Bemused, Andy pursed his lips and spat a flume of bathwater in Neal’s direction. “I have one word for you, Neal,” he said his voice decidedly waterlogged. “ _Conditioner._ ”


	2. Lather, Rinse, Repeat (2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neal gets Andy to (finally) shampoo Neal's hair. But he ends up wanting something else, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Tulsa_Gangsta's Advent Calendar 2010. The PG ficlet demanded a rougher-graded sequel.

“I hope you’re happy,” Andy mumbled while Neal sat in the opposite end of the bathtub, his toothy grin indicating that yes, he was, and quite. “My pants are ruined now.”

With a soapy hand he reached over to the leg of his jeans, now soaked in bathwater, along with the rest of him, the result of his boyfriend’s practical joke. He pulled at the material and let it go with a _squelch_ that reverberated off the bathroom’s tiled walls. He’d think twice about ever agreeing to wash Neal’s hair again.

“They’re just a little wet,” Neal said with a snicker; easy for him to say, Andy thought, considering Neal’s clothes were dry and warm in a tidy pile near the bathroom door. “They’ll be fine.”

Andy frowned, his balance still off from being so rudely dragged from the edge of the tub right into its depths. “They’re uncomfortable,” he complained.

Neal’s smile went dirty. “Then take them off.”

A groan rose from Andy’s throat, his eyes rolling. “Was that your intention this whole time?” he asked. His legs, sticking up out of the bathwater from his awkward landing, were being wrangled in by Neal as the two men sat facing each other in the tub. “I bet you didn’t even want help shampooing your hair. You just wanted to get my pants off.”

Experienced, tattooed fingers were working quickly at untying Andy’s shoelaces and discarding his shoes on the bathroom floor. Neal made a disapproving grunt as the socks went next. “Like I need an excuse to get you outta your pants, Skib.”

“Well, no,” Andy conceded as Neal’s hands drifted elsewhere, making a trail down the wet denim, fingertips pressing against the skin underneath. They stopped at the waistline, dipping underneath the water, one quickly undoing the fly, the other tracing the outline of Andy’s cock. Andy shuddered in spite of himself, wishing that sometimes he wasn’t so easy. “But you coulda just asked...”

“Now where--” Neal leaned forward, invading Andy’s space with a devilish grin, as he pulled the zipper down and slipped his hand inside. “--would the fun be in that?”

He muffled Andy’s retort with his lips, catching Andy’s up in a playful kiss, coaxing them open with his tongue as he pulled Andy’s cock from layers of fabric. He gave out a soft moan of triumph as Andy responded to the kiss, tongue snaking out to meet Neal’s, arms slowly wrapping around Neal’s bowed shoulders. He knew quite well there needn’t be games played between them, only a touch, a look, necessary to ignite their desire, anytime, anywhere. But Neal believed that having a long-term boyfriend was very similar to having an extra-large bathtub equipped with whirlpool jets and heated porcelain: there was no point having one if you couldn’t have a little fun while you were at it.

Wasting little time with the wet obstacles in his way, Neal slipped off Andy’s soaked jeans, his boxers following shortly after; tossing them over his shoulder, they left a dripping arc of water that made Andy snort with laughter. Neal snarled, less amused; he was not looking for that kind of response from undressing his boyfriend. “What’s so funny?” he growled, his hands returning to their rightful positions on Andy’s bare skin, making their way up his legs and tracing along his thighs.

His affronted behavior only made Andy laugh more. Pulling himself up and closing what little space existed between them, Andy reached out a hand, not to Neal’s chest, or his face, but up higher--until it nestled deep into Neal’s hair. “Can’t really take you seriously right now...” he snickered, pulling his hand back to reveal a palm full of soap suds. “...Mr. Bubbles.”

With his palm up and open Andy blew hard, lifting the suds and scattering them in Neal’s direction. Scrunching up his nose in a frown, Neal couldn’t tell what displeased him more: Andy’s nonchalant attitude over sitting in a bathtub while his naked boyfriend undressed him, or the fact that he still had a head full of shampoo to deal with. Closing his eyes tightly, he took a deep breath and slid underneath the water, trying to fit his submerged head along with twice as many limbs in the bath as before. When Neal popped back up, streams of water ran down his face in rivulets, weighing down the copper-colored hair he continually refused to cut until a suit held him down and went at him with a pair of scissors.

Before he could open his eyes again Neal found two lips upon his, Andy taking the opportunity to gain the upper hand. He moaned into Andy’s mouth as he deepened the kiss, a tongue darting against Neal’s lips, his teeth, asking for entrance, knowing it would be granted. A hand returned to Neal’s hair but with much different intentions than before, Andy’s long fingers threading into the thick locks, tugging at the scalp--not enough to hurt but only to sting in the way Neal loved, inflaming his senses.

Abruptly Andy pulled away, just as Neal was easing into the kiss and responding with his own tongue; caught off-guard, Neal leaned forward, desperate to keep their connection. What he connected with instead was Andy’s palm, still full of suds from before, brushing against his nose.

“Missed a spot,” Andy said smugly.

Neal opened his eyes to see Andy pull his t-shirt up over his head, discarding the sopping wet fabric up over the tub’s edge. “Fuck you,” he retorted.

Andy smiled and leaned in close, lips brushing against the warm metal looped into Neal’s earlobe. “Oh, please do.”

After that Neal happily lost the ability to speak: Andy’s tongue darted out to taste the lobe ringed with metal, licking at the wet flesh, playfully circling around the shell. Neal let out a ragged sigh as Andy’s breath hit the skin, hot and needy, their bearded cheeks pressed together with deliciously rough friction. Andy’s hand went back into Neal’s hair, now clean and bubble-free, tugging at the scalp with intent and desire as he moved his legs, repositioning himself so he was straddling Neal’s frame, knees bent at Neal’s sides.

Reaching out with desperate hands, Neal’s made contact with Andy’s chest, and they pressed in, wishing to feel more. They moved down as the ministrations of Andy’s tongue moved likewise, kissing a trail down Neal’s neck, tracing his tattoo, biting along the sensitive spots that drove Neal wild. Neal’s fingers followed the trail of hairs along Andy’s body southward, breaking through the surface of the water to delve deeper, running along his stomach, down to his crotch, ending the journey at the base of his cock.

Andy made a soft, needy noise in his throat, muffled by the skin on Neal’s collarbone. Wordlessly he asked for more, his hips pulsing against Neal’s touch. Slowly one of Neal’s hands worked its way up the shaft, fingers playing delicately along the hot skin like musical scales, and just as nimble and effortless. The bathwater swirled around his fingers as he stroked Andy, the waves lapping at the head just as it breached the surface. Andy moaned, arching his back into Neal’s expert touch, easing into the sensation and resting his back against the edge of the tub.

With his eyes drifting closed in pleasure, reeling in the moment as Neal twisted his palm along the head of Andy’s cock, Andy hadn’t noticed the path of the other hand along his body, continuing its journey southward. Brushing against the flesh of his balls, a wrist bumping into Andy’s thigh, Neal’s ministrations gave his intentions away. Andy gave out a breathy sigh, his brow knit together.

“Do it...” his voice was low and throaty, and surprising even to his own ears, much less Neal’s, who gave a low growl even at the thought. He loved being playful with Andy--fuck, he’d probably put it in his top five favorite things to do in a bathtub--and there was nothing more satisfying than taking him like this, fucking Andy when he wanted it the most. But when Andy was so eager to _give_ himself over, asking for it, begging with his lips and his body...it was far too much for Neal to ever resist. “Neal, please...”

“ _Fuck_ yeah...” came Neal’s reply through gritted teeth. His fingers found purchase at Andy’s entrance, circling the ring slowly, methodically, watching with intense interest as Andy’s teeth clamped down hard on his bottom lip, biting back a yelp. Neal fought against his own moan when he slid a finger inside, the soapy water guiding its path, his senses suddenly hit by the tight heat. “A-Andy--” he stuttered, trying hard to maintain his composure.

But any attempt to do so went flying along with the soaked clothes as Andy repositioned himself, the legs bent at Neal’s sides sliding up until his ankles dangled off the edge of the tub, close to Neal’s shoulders. It provided them with an entirely different angle, Andy’s hips so much closer to Neal’s now, Andy could feel the heat of Neal’s hard and untended cock brushing against the underside of his thigh. Neal’s finger went down to the knuckle inside Andy, and he shivered, wishing it were another part of his anatomy instead.

His desire grew tenfold when he felt the sheath of heat shifting against his own skin, Andy’s hips pressing shallow thrusts into his touch. “ _Move,_ ” Andy demanded, his tone guttural, entirely different from the playful taunts only a few minutes before. Neal’s mind was always left spinning at how quickly Andy could change from one emotion to the next, from a collected, dry-humored best friend to playful flirt, to the needy, forceful lover he had come to know better than himself. That side to Andy was in full force now, grinding against Neal’s pressing finger, then two, hands gripping the edges of the tub as they scissored inside him.

With a tiny splash of water Neal released his grip on Andy’s cock, garnering a groan of protest; but he soothed it into a breathy hum in the back of Andy’s throat as the hand came up to stroke against his chest, his neck, finally resting to curve around his jawline. Neal moved forward, watching with wide blue eyes as Andy leaned into the wet palm, eyes closed, lips panting in shallow breaths. And when he pressed his own lips against them he felt those pants inside him, both men tasting each other’s breaths, the air mingling between them as much as the bathwater below.

Growling low in the back of his throat, Neal nipped at the tender flesh of Andy’s bottom lip, teeth working it raw before he metered it with a flick of his tongue. “Wanna fuck you,” he rasped, and even as he spoke Neal’s hips prodded into Andy’s, his cock brushing against the curves of Andy’s inner thigh, desperate for contact.

Andy made a whining sound of protest as Neal’s fingers slipped out from inside him, but he shuddered as they grasped at his hip, knowing what was to come next. “God, yes...”

They kissed as Neal entered him, his cock pulsing slow yet determined against Andy, the soapy bathwater a natural lubricant. Feeling the pressure and heat hit him like a tidal wave, both of Neal’s hands dropped down to Andy’s hips, guiding him inside, his fingers pressing into Andy’s flesh until the knuckles were white. He knew how it felt to fuck Andy Skib, to experience the tight heat of his body all around him--hell, it was something Neal knew on a regular basis, he was getting pretty damn familiar with it by now--but every time felt so unique, the sensations so raw and intense. Neal thought, with a little bit of glee as Andy’s head dropped back against the tub edge, his back arching in pleasure, that he’d never get tired of that feeling.

Sex in the water wasn’t new for them--the Skibs’ hot tub back in Tulsa had gotten some deliciously inappropriate use in its time--but the confined space of a bathtub was restricting. Luxurious as it may have been for one, it was not accommodating two full-grown men nor all of the lascivious positions they wished to get themselves in. Still, they made the most of it: gripping the edges of the tub, Andy eased himself down until Neal was inside him to the hilt, the familiar sensation of fullness enveloping his body. With one deep breath to center himself Andy pressed on, his hips pulsing against Neal’s, breaking down the initial resistance of his body to reach the heights of pleasure he knew waited for him.

Oh fuck, that _feeling..._ Neal’s head tipped forward as he bit down on his lip hard, holding back the string of curses that could undoubtedly be heard from anywhere in the house. When he looked back up Andy’s dark brown eyes were on him, burning with intensity, a stare full of purpose. With one last passionate kiss to his boyfriend’s lips Andy leaned back, his chest disappearing underneath the soapy bath, until his shoulderblades hit smooth porcelain. His arms went from the sides of the tub, hanging over the edges and spread like his legs, to behind his head, holding onto the towel rack screwed into the wall.

Neal only realized his intentions when he felt the pressure around his cock began to tighten, and then move as Andy thrust against him, and then Neal wasn’t thinking of damn near anything anymore.

Instinctively his hips snapped up to meet Andy’s, thrust himself deeper inside, his mouth open, his breath gasping from the suddenness of his boyfriend’s actions. “H-holy shit, Andy,” he moaned, his short fingernails digging into the skin at Andy’s hips--at one time his position of leverage, but now, he was just using the grip to hold on for dear life.

Andy pressed down again, the friction between their bodies palpable. “Fuck me, Neal.” His words weren’t an entreaty but a challenge: his gaze, still staring straight into Neal’s eyes, told him that if Neal wasn’t going to do the job, then Andy would.

Although perfectly content to watch Andy fuck himself on his cock all afternoon, Neal responded with a deep thrust of his hips, nearly entirely leaving Andy’s body before pushing himself back in, and garnering a well-earned yelp from Andy’s lips. If there was one thing to be said about Neal Tiemann, it was he could never turn down a challenge.

The bathwater was churning now, lapping against the tub walls and their bodies in waves, splashing over the tiles of the bathroom floor. With every thrust the waves grew larger, more erratic, as their fucking grew more intense, the sounds of their moans and cries bouncing off the slick porcelain and competing only with the sloshing water. Neal’s hands moved from their ineffectual position on Andy’s hips to his thighs, gripping underneath his knees and holding them up above the water’s surface. For every thrust he pressed into Andy he received one back in kind, Andy fully using the towel rack to his advantage, his head thrown back, eyes screwed shut in pleasure.

“Fuck--God--oh, fucking _hell_ ,” Andy shouted with each thrust, and Neal only wished he was in the right frame of mind to enjoy them, relish in the fact that he was coaxing those curses out of his lover’s mouth. As it was, he was holding together as best he could, keeping Andy’s legs up and fucking him hard and deep when all Neal wanted was to lose himself in him...

He watched Andy’s face as the other man bit down hard on his bottom lip, sucking it in between his teeth, before releasing it, lips, mouth, and entire body trembling. Damn that his hands were busy; Neal wanted to trace along those coveted lips with his fingertips, either to soothe them or abuse them further, perhaps both.

But regardless of his own desires, he could see--and feel, and _know_ from so many years of being with him like this--that Andy was holding back. “Wanna come in you, Andy...” Originally Neal wanted to say it for Andy’s own benefit, to work out that sigh escaping his boyfriend’s lips at the thought, but the moment the words tumbled from his mouth Neal realized how much he wanted it himself. “So bad...”

He was rewarded with quite an indecent noise coming from Andy’s lips as his brow knit together in passionate concentration. “Do it,” he pleaded again, his legs spreading wider, waiting for Neal’s surge of power. “Gotta-- _oh, fuck_ \--feel you--”

These times when Andy wanted him like this, so badly he was close to begging, his cock purplish red and hard, slick with bathwater and precum even though it was largely untended...Neal could barely resist shooting his load right then and there. “Come with me,” he demanded, his thrusts going deeper, harder, as he struggled to hold on. “Touch yourself.”

Andy didn’t need any more prompting than the husky, desperate tone in Neal’s voice; his hand dropped to his crotch, making a small splash in the water as it instinctively wrapped around his dick, stroking to the pace of Neal’s thrusts. It didn’t take long before Andy’s back arched up off the bathtub wall, his voice rising in a choked cry. His cock jerked in his hand, eager for the attention after being neglected this whole time, and spurted thick streams of cum from the surface of the water, landing on the exposed skin of Andy’s chest.

The tightening of Andy’s muscles, his entire body while Neal was deep inside him, sent his lover over the edge, pumping furiously into him as he came. Neal could hardly breathe for how intense his sensations were, overwhelming him and causing his limbs to shake. He rode the orgasm through until they were both raw and spent, gasping in breaths, their nerves too sensitive to move.

With a belabored, happy sigh Andy released the towel rack from his grasp, its screws thankfully keeping it attached to the wall during their encounter. The last thing he needed was to trash David’s bathroom while they were fucking in the tub. “God, I’m gonna feel that in the morning,” he lamented, his head falling to the side, cheek pressed against the porcelain. He groaned to confirm this when Neal let go of his legs, lowering them--thankfully slowly--back into the water.

“Stop talkin’ like you’re the old man here,” Neal joked, and with heavy-lidded eyes Andy managed a smile. Wet, happy, and sated, the man across from Neal in the tub was a peaceful sight to behold. Wishing to share in that bliss, Neal slunk towards him carefully, barely disturbing the water but for his hand reaching up, breaching the surface.

Andy looked down to see the cause of the disturbance, and felt small waves of water wash over his chest, followed by a warm, tattooed hand. With a soft smile playing on his lips Neal wiped away the remnants of their bathtub encounter, letting his hand linger on the skin there. Humming in contentment, Andy matched the smile, but it soon turned into a shivering grimace.

“The water got cold,” he noted with a frown.

Neal peered over the edge of the bathtub to the tiled floor, witnessing the wet aftermath of their bath-time activities. Puddles riddled the ground, and even Neal’s pile of clothes, carefully folded away in a corner, hadn’t been spared. “The water got everywhere,” he chuckled.

When he looked back over at Andy, the other man was running a hand lazily through his hair, with a smirk on his face and a mischievous spark in his eyes that Neal knew very well. “Well, I washed your hair,” he pointed out. “Maybe now you should wash mine.”


End file.
